Page 72 of Midnight Mate
In the end, ripping off the Band-aid seemed like the way to go.
“I’ve decided to take Tobias up on his offer.”
Easton looked up, setting his mug down slowly. I tried to read his expression, but there was nothing familiar in his eyes now.
“I had a feeling you would,” he said, his voice even. Impossible to read.
“I think having a circle of others like me that I can lean on for support is important,” I said, rambling as I tried to figure him out.
He nodded. “Makes sense. I’ve been packless for a long time now, and it’s not easy.”
I bit my lip, waiting to see if he’d say more, but he only rose and went to put on his boots.
My heart sank as a feeling of dread settled in my gut.
So, he was leaving then.
“Hey, before you do that, would you take a ride with me?”
I nodded, numb as the loss settled over me. What would I do without him? This time, I had a mate bond to grieve over, and I had a feeling that sort of thing didn’t just go away because of a breakup.
“Sure.”
East was quiet during the ride, and I had no idea where we were headed. Outside town, we passed the turn for his mom’s and then the turn for Tobias’s which only made me more curious. But every time I looked over, East just smiled at me, his eyes sparkling in a way that left me confused considering this was supposed to be our goodbye.
“Where are we?” I asked as he pulled into an unfamiliar drive several miles outside of town. The house in front of us was cute in a way that reminded me a bit of my childhood home. Wrap-around porch. Big bay window. And a tire swing in the back that made me think of the hours we’d spent as kids with East trying to push me so high I thought I might catch the wind and fly away.
Nostalgia clogged my throat as East squeezed my hand.
“Come see.”
He got out and came around, helping me out of the truck. I climbed the steps to the porch and eyed the cute wooden swing hanging off to the side.
“Great swing,” I said.
East went to the front door and bent to peel away the mat. Grabbing a key, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, glancing around. But the yard was empty, and we were far enough back from the road to be out of sight. “You can’t just walk in.”
“Sure I can.” He took my elbow, guiding me through the door. “A man has a right to enter his own home.”
“His own. . .” I blinked. “You live here?”
I stepped in and looked around, noting the simple furnishings. Brand new and handmade, from the looks of it. The branding matched a local woodworking shop in town. I wandered closer and saw that the blue couch with deep, cozy cushions still had the tag on it. Everything was brand new.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, turning back to East.
“Depends. What do you think of it?”
“It’s beautiful. The house is lovely, and the furniture’s cozy.”
“Reminds me a bit of your old house,” he said, eyes twinkling again.
“Me too,” I admitted, softening when I realized he’d bought something just reminiscent enough of good times without all the grief that would cling to the actual house my parents had lived in.
“But what are we doing here?” I repeated, uncertainty curling in my stomach, mixing with a hope I didn’t want to admit to. “Did you sign a short-term rental contract or something?”
“I bought it.”
